After the murder she had barely escaped the grounds undetected. Once away from the office building, she had been too scared to even return to her apartment. Instead she had emptied her savings account and completely abandoned her life in Chicago. The newspapers had reported Carver’s death as a suicide; that he had killed himself after becoming despondent over large investment losses.
Chelsea Rogers was the only one not on Justin Carver’s payroll who knew the truth about the murder. It was that knowledge that would keep her from ever leading a normal life again.
Chelsea bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath. Two days. If the business manager from Southside Renovations could actually give her the documents he had promised and they contained what she hoped, then all of this fear and running could be over within two short days.
Her ruminations made her hands start shaking and she quickly moved them out of sight as she returned to her seat. She glanced furtively at the tall attorney, thankful that he was engrossed in the document he was studying and not paying any attention to her. These days, it was hard not to be constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering who would be a threat. Mr. Sullivan didn’t seem threatening exactly, but he would never win an award for Mr. Congeniality.
She reached for her purse that was stowed under the seat in front of her and began rummaging for her gum. The crisp white envelope didn’t catch her attention immediately, but she raised an eyebrow when she noticed it and pulled it out of her purse. There was no writing on the outside, but it was sealed and she could tell it had a letter or some sort of paper inside. Where had this come from? She didn’t recognize it at all. A sliver of fear went down her spine as she carefully tore open the envelope and removed the single sheet of paper.
I found you and now I’m never going to let you go.
Chelsea’s hands started trembling as she dropped the note back into her purse as if it were on fire. Where had this note come from? When? How had it gotten into her purse? She sank against the window as the fear consumed her. Was it from the man with the Braves cap at the airport? She thought she’d noticed him watching her, but when he hadn’t said anything, she’d assumed she’d just been paranoid again. Had he slipped the note in her bag when he’d brushed past her earlier? Did the note mean that Carver had found her? If so, how? She thought she had been so careful to cover her tracks, but apparently, at some stage, she had made a grievous error.
She picked up the note again and studied it carefully, hoping she would see something that would reveal its origin. “I found you...”
She wadded it up as nausea made her stomach heave.
“Are you okay?” Alex asked from beside her, startling her. “Do you need an airsick bag?”
Chelsea shook her head quickly, aware that her situation had just gotten even more precarious. She’d forgotten that the attorney watched her every move. She didn’t think he had actually seen the words on the note, but he’d certainly seen her reaction and now would be even more suspicious of her. She quickly zipped up her purse with the crumpled note inside and held it close to her chest, then tried to hide her shaking hands under the blanket.
Somehow, Carver had found her. Now there was only one question remaining. How long would he let her live?
Alex put his legal pad down and paced around the hotel room as he mentally went over his to-do list. His first priority was to contact his private detective in Tallahassee to see what he had been able to find out about Chelsea. Then he needed to convince Miss Abigail to sign the original trust documents and discard the version benefitting Chelsea. After that, he’d just need to make his plane reservations to fly back to Tallahassee.
He checked his watch, surprised at how much time had already passed since he had gotten up this morning. They had been in Maui less than twenty-four hours and the jet lag had slowed him down a bit. He pulled a number out of his wallet and dialed Tony D’Angelo, his favorite private investigator. Alex had known Tony for years, and although the man was scruffy and sloppy in appearance, he was a first-rate investigator. Tony had been an investigator for the firm for over fifteen years, but he had also been the one to discover Alex’s fiancée’s deception two years ago. They had been good friends ever since.
Tony picked up on the second ring, his voice loud and gregarious. “Yo, this is Tony.”
“Hey, Tony. Sullivan here. Any news about Miss Abigail’s assistant?”
“Some, Sully, but you’re not going to like it.”
A cold heaviness settled in Alex’s stomach. “Lay it on me.”
“Well, like we suspected, Chelsea Rogers doesn’t exist. I doubt it’s her real name and she’s obviously taken pains to create a new identity. I’m also guessing that Abigail Van Buren is paying her under the table in cash, and that’s why Chelsea’s history wasn’t discovered sooner. Otherwise her lack of a legitimate social security number would have tipped us off. You need to talk to Miss Abigail about that, by the way. We don’t want the old lady arrested for failing to pay the appropriate taxes.”
“I found some new information about Chelsea while we were on the plane,” Alex offered. “She said she moved to the United States from Brazil when she was twelve years old.”
“Any idea how old she is now?”
“I don’t know. Late twenties? Early thirties?”
“Well, once we figure out her real name we can check with immigration to see if we can verify that story against the visa and passport records.”
“Any news about this violent man with lots of resources that seems to want to find her? Miss Abigail seems to think Chelsea was a victim of domestic violence.”
“None yet.” Tony paused. “I’ve started working on the Bombay blood angle you told me about, too. I can keep digging if you want me to. The question is how far do you want me to go?”
Alex shrugged to himself. Tony charged quite a fee for his services. How much did he really want to know about Chelsea Rogers? Once he talked Miss Abigail out of the crazy idea of making Chelsea her executor, the case would be closed from his standpoint. His client’s interests would have been safeguarded. But what if Chelsea continued to work for Miss Abigail and ingratiated herself even further in the elderly lady’s good graces? Or what if he couldn’t convince Miss Abigail to revert to her previous will and keep Chelsea out of it?
He ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he needed to look out for Miss Abigail. He couldn’t just stand by and watch her get taken to the cleaners by an unscrupulous con artist. “Take two more days. While you’re searching on that end, I’ll try to find out what I can from this side. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything new.”
“Can you overnight me something with her fingerprints on it? If she’s ever been printed I can find her in the system, and that might speed things up.”
Alex paused a moment. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, I’ll wait here in Hawaii until you report in, just in case you find something.” He read off the number to the hotel and his room number, then disconnected. It looked as though he would be stuck in Maui for another two days unless Tony was able to discover something sooner.
Alex laughed softly to himself. There were probably very few visitors to this lush tropical paradise that considered themselves “stuck” here—but Alex had never been the type to enjoy vacations. He liked being at work, where he could feel productive and useful. He called the firm and checked in with his brother, Ryan, then called the airline and reserved a seat home. For the next two days he would do his own research on Chelsea Rogers here in Maui to see